


I can't hold myself.

by Pwyllxiety



Series: Breakeven. [2]
Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Dead May Parker (Spider-Man), Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, How Do I Tag, Hurt Peter Parker, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I cried whilst writing this, I mean I'm not even surpised, Irondad, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Past Rape/Non-con, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sensory Overload, Triggers, also that's not a relationship please I'm like not a creep, like because I'm autistic and I just kinda project lol, oof, ooooh boy this is just really sad isn't it, probably accidentally made an autistic headcannon, spideyson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-09 22:53:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18647749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pwyllxiety/pseuds/Pwyllxiety
Summary: Life is just so noisy, Peter really wishes it wasn’t. The super hearing didn’t help- laying in his bed in the tower; he can hear every rumble in the vents, every creaking floorboard, the sound of two clinking wine glasses- hundreds of metres above him, every response that FRIDAY gives, every analog clock.He just wants it to stop.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well shit, this is a bit of a surprise for everyone involved isn't it. I've been MIA since January, and honestly I didn't think I even had the cognitive skills to write anymore. So yeah, I'm shocked.
> 
> [Also the title is so wildly specific, I'd be surprised if anyone guesses the song it's from lol]

We all have off days- and those off days become weeks, and those fall away into months.

He can’t even recall the last time he smiled, probably the morning that- actually scratch that, he doesn’t want to think about that right now. He’s been spiralling hard since it happened though, and sadness became his prime directive. The sadness becomes numbness, but Peter can’t tell the difference anymore.

Life is just _so_ noisy, Peter really wishes it wasn’t. The super hearing didn’t help- laying in his bed in the tower; he can hear every rumble in the vents, every creaking floorboard, the sound of two clinking wine glasses- hundreds of metres above him, every response that FRIDAY gives, every analog clock.

He’s going into sensory overload, every sound is building up and up and up, so loud that it drowns out his heartbeat and smothers the sound of his laboured breaths. He doesn’t know how to make the sound stop, so he does the most rational thing he can think of in his half-conscious mind- he screams in a desperate attempt for that to be the only thing he hears in that moment, and it works temporarily. What he forgets however- is he’s not alone like he used to be and his bedroom door bangs open.

“Peter- Peter? Peter!” Tony practically screams, the last thing he wants is to scare the kid further then he already appears to be- but his words are getting nowhere. So, what’s he meant to do? Peter is still screaming but his voice is getting hoarse. Maybe Tony can wait it out and try and talk when he’s done.

Bucky softly juts his head round the door, he would never admit it under any circumstances, but Peter had grown on him, I mean he could argue that Peter had grown on him like a rash, and he didn’t really enjoy the kids’ company, but that just wasn’t true.

“Is he okay?” Bucky slowly asked- not wanting to invade too much.

Tony looked at him, worry clear in his eyes- “Honestly Barnes, I have no idea.”

Peter’s scream has gone on for a consistent ten minutes, and honestly Tony has no idea how he held it for that long. The sound is dulling down though, his vocal chords are pretty raw now.

Everything happens pretty quick after that- Peter stops screaming, and sits bolt upright in the bed. Nausea is hitting him in waves, and panic sets in- there’s someone here with him, he doesn’t know who they are, or what they want- his vision is swimming, so he’s not even sure if they’re real. Regardless, instinct takes over, his spider sense screaming at him, so he hastily swings a frantic fist in the direction of the person, and it connects- all whilst stuttering strings of words.

But what it connects with in reality was an unprepared Tony Stark, who just got punched in the ribs by a child who can catch Captain America’s shield.

Even though his voice is strained and quiet, the words are tumbling out, Tony and Bucky don’t miss a single one.

“Don’thurtme, pleasedon’thurtme- Iwon’ttellthem, justdon’touchmeagain, pleasedon’touchmethereagain.”

Bucky watches as Peter panics and punches Tony. It’s scary to him, Peter is a teenager, hell, he’s basically a _fucking_ child, and here he is, having a full-blown panic attack- the words concern him more, the _“Please don’t hurt me.”_ phrase could have any cause really, but it was these other phrases _“Please don’t touch me there again.”_ And _“I won’t tell them.”_

Tony looks mortified, and Bucky tenses his jaw.

“FRIDAY scan his vitals, report back immediately.” Tony snaps, trying desperately to remain calm.

“Increased levels of Anxiety, high blood pressure, hyperventilating, irregular heart beat- It’d seem Mr. Parker is having a panic attack, sir.” She states calmly.

“Any known, possible cause?” Tony asks hopefully.

There’s a long silence. Peter still nervously telling them not to touch him.

“Well judging by the words sir, it seems to be a flashback.” The computer says dryly.

Tony nods, even though he knows the AI can’t see him. Peter’s stopped talking now, he’s looking Tony dead in the eye and breathing hard- he doubles over momentarily, coughing a couple times before sitting back up.

“S-sorry.” He stutters.

“What happened?” Tony asks softly, he has to hold his hand still so he doesn’t move to softly touch Peter’s shoulder.

“I was trying to make the noises go away.” He sighs.

Tony cocks his head. Bucky guesses the rest.

“Sensory overload?” The winter soldier asks him. Peter nods.

Bucky again, saves Peter from explaining.

“Super hearing can get really bad when you can hear everything within a two-block radius, noise cancellation headphones should help with that.” He explains, clearly understanding Peter’s issue.

Peter nods.

“Kid, if you’d told me that months ago- I would’ve made you some.” Tony says softly, before standing up.

Peter nods again, not trusting his voice.

* * *

 

It happens again, but this time the trigger is clear. Bruce amicably pats his shoulder and calls him ‘Einstein’.

Peter goes completely rigid, and then spins on his heals and walks away, _quickly_. Bruce thinks it’s odd, so he asks Tony, and Tony recounts the events of the night when Peter had been screaming. Bruce listens carefully.

“PTSD.” Bruce says at the end.

“What?” Tony almost yelled.

“I mean, is it really a surprise? We’re the only family he has left, and he’s only sixteen- plus the way he was speaking that night, it sounds like-” Bruce pauses, and swallows thickly.

“Sounds like what?” Tony asks frantically.

“No that can’t be it.” Bruce says quietly.

“What were you going to say?” Tony asks again.

Bruce takes a deep breath- “Phrases like that are most commonly repeated in panic attack situations by-” He pauses again briefly. “-People who were sexually assaulted.” He chokes out.

Bruce blinks, Tony curses.

* * *

 

He’s balled up behind his door; taking small, stuttering breaths. He didn’t mean to panic like that, but that nickname took his mind back to him- ‘him’ being Steven Westcott. And that just bought back unpleasant load of baggage. He grabs the noise cancelling headphones Tony had made him and put them in, desperate for his thoughts to be flooded by the music.

Tony can’t begin to comprehend the words that just left Bruce’s mouth.

“FRIDAY, scan for any court appearances that Peter has made- and ignore any laws telling me it’s private.” He sighs.

The computer pauses, though Tony knows it’s just processing his request.

“Here.” The voice replies, a tab popping up on Tony’s computer.

_Steven Westcott, status: Currently incarcerated, reason: Sexual assault of a minor, date: 12/06/2010._

The tab said. Tony’s world was basically imploding.

“Bruce, he was- he was _so_ young.” Tony squeaked.

“How young?” Bruce asks, not wanting to know the answer.

“He was eight. Someone did that to an eight-year-old, and not just to any eight-year-old- they did it to _him_.” Tony said, his voice almost breaking.

Tony couldn’t even begin to imagine how hard it had been, Peter had been hiding all of his problems for so long and the pressure had been so immense that they’d started to spill.

A small fracture in a dam is all it takes for the entire wall to fall. Something had cracked that wall, and Tony desperately wanted to know what. All of the Avengers seemed to suffer from some type of PTSD, it came with the fucking job. But this rotted Tony to the core.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I uhm, I swear I didn't cry officer.

Tony was disgusted- this was bad, he wanted to scream at the top of his lungs, he physically wanted to track down that _creep_ and make sure he was getting the torment he deserves. Tony knew he shouldn’t think like that, but there’s a little part of him that’s happy that people like Steven are hated by every other prisoner in the system.

He needed to talk to Peter, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Hell, he needed to have a talk with every single avenger in some ditched attempt to salvage his sanity by asking for their help. He didn’t know which he needed to do first- he didn’t want Peter to get to flighty, in case he caught wind of the avengers _knowing_ his secret. But he didn’t want to talk to Peter, knowing that again, he could get panicky- and a panicked teenager with super strength and an affinity for clinging to ceilings really wasn’t at the top of his to do list.

Whichever move he made, this Jenga tower could tumble, or it could wobble and stand tall. Tony figured the best thing to do was tell the avengers- first making a mental note of who already knew within the confines of the compound.

_Himself, Bruce, and Bucky._

So, he gathered himself up and called them both in for a meeting.

“We need to cut the shit, we know he’s suffering.” Tony stated, deadly serious.

 

* * *

 

“The best thing is to tell the team. If Peter freaks out when you talk to him, they’ll at least know what’s happening.” Bruce said finally, rubbing his hands against his temples. So, Tony activated the meeting protocol to all the Avengers’ phones, and over the next ten minutes they all filed in.

When Tony finally got to the end of his incredibly stress induced talk, he stared to the group in silence.

All present faces showed various degrees of shock and horror.

Natasha and Clint looked downright murderous, Steve looked at Tony and Bucky his jaw basically unhinged, Wanda was near tears, Rhodey was clenching and unclenching his jaw.

“Well, I’m going to talk to Peter tomorrow, so be on the lookout.” Tony stated calmly, his voice only wavering a little. This was his kid, and he’d be damned if he let the name Steven Westcott hurt Peter ever again.

 

* * *

 

 

Whatever top 40 tracks were playing through his headphones were doing a pretty crappy job at calming him down. He hadn’t thought about Skip in so long, and he didn’t really want to- but with all the mess that had gone down recently, it was hard to keep the old memories pushed down.

Life had been pretty good up until a point, all his repressed memories were just that, repressed. Then uncle Ben had died, and those memories started flooding back to the forefront of his mind. In the end he’d been prescribed some type of anti-depressant, and that was fine.

Or it was fine, until she died- which is how he ended up in this mess, well the mess being living in the avengers’ compound.

He didn’t tell Tony about the anti-depressants, he couldn’t bring himself to do so. And guessing by the fact he hadn’t been yelled at yet, the doctors hadn’t told Tony either.

Peter was afraid of many things; aeroplanes, predatory adults, guns, buildings, most people, and because of the way May had died, cars. She had died in a car accident. Something so simple had taken her away, and Peter has hated cars since then.

But he didn’t tell Tony any of the things he was scared of, in the fear of looking weak. He’d rather swallow his vomit when he was in a car than spill his fears.

 

* * *

 

 

Tony came into Peter’s room the next day, his expression soft- and Peter instantly knew something was amiss, his spider sense screaming at every fibre of his being. He stayed still.

“What are you afraid of?” Tony asked softly.

That was not the question he’d been expecting.

“What?” Was the first word that came to mind, which proceeded to tumble directly out of his mouth.

“We all have triggers.” Tony stated softly.

There was no point trying to hide it, Tony had watched him have a break down, and even though he’d told a half lie at the time and blamed the whole event on sensory overload, he had asked FRIDAY to show him the clip and he had heard clear as day what his past-self had said.

“You know about him don’t you.” Peter sighed, curling in on himself slightly.

“Quite regrettably, yeah.” Tony said softly.

“Okay- that makes life better for me I guess.” Peter mumbled.

“Is it only him?” Tony prompted gently.

Peter shook his head, and Tony waited for him to continue.

“I don’t like aeroplanes.” He said, and Tony nodded.

“I don’t like predatory adults.” He continued, Tony nodded again.

“I don’t like buildings, and by extension small spaces and crowded areas.” He added, Tony needed to ask him about that one.

“I don’t like guns.” His voice came out quietly when he said that. And Tony silently used his eyes to ask if he was allowed to initiate physical contact. Peter nodded, and Tony shuffled sideways to ruffle Peter’s hair soothingly.

“I don’t like cars either.” Peter finished. Tony almost cursed, of course he didn’t like cars, his aunt had died in a car crash less than two months ago.

“Why don’t you like buildings?” Tony asked, trying to keep the curiosity from colouring his voice.

“I don’t want to talk about that right now.” He stated, and Tony nodded.

“What about you, you said we all have triggers.” Peter said lightly, and Tony sighed. If this kid wanted to feel accepted, he needed to know that Tony had his fair share of issues too and that it was okay.

He took a breath.

“I don’t like shouting, or suffocation, or the cold, specifically snow.” Tony said.

Peter took a breath and looked at Tony, the feeling was mutual between them, what they knew now was personal, and they’d both be damned if they didn’t look out for each other.

Peter blinked and finally took the plunge.

“I was on anti-depressants, you know- when she was still alive. But I was too scared to tell you.” He blurted out.

Tony was ready to explode; the kid had been through so much shit he had been taking prescription pills- and yet he hadn’t been getting his dosage for over two months because he thought Tony would think of him differently.

Tony paused, choosing his next words very carefully.

“You’re my kid-” He paused.

“- We’ll get you that prescription and we’re going to work through this. One step at a time, together starting with this.” He ended

“You don’t think I’m pathetic?” Peter basically spat those words out.

“What tablets do you think I’m taking with my coffee every morning?” Tony sighed.

Peter’s eyes widened even more.

“I’m sorry.” He said softly.

“Don’t be, we all have demons.” Tony says, removing his hand from Peter’s hair.

What he didn’t expect was a small mewling sound to come from Peter when he removed his hand, so he laced his finger back into Peter’s hair, and they remained there for quite some time, content in the silence that had fallen between them. Peter doesn’t remember falling asleep, but it was the best he’d had in a long time, and Tony didn’t plan on moving.

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
